“You couldn’t have known, Darlington,” Haslemere said, as if he’d read Gideon’s mind. “Christ, no one could have predicted she’d come back.”
“It’s been months, Haslemere.” Gideon knew he should hate her for it, but underneath the anger, the confusion, all he felt was a cold, distant kind of pity. “Why now?”
“I’ve thought about that.” Haslemere’s voice was quiet in the darkness, and Gideon glanced at him as they came around the side of the castle. A muted light shone through the kitchen window, illuminating his friend’s unsmiling mouth, his clenched jaw. “There can only be one reason. Your marriage, Darlington. She came to stop it. Nothing else makes sense.”
Gideon’s steps slowed. “Butwhy? She got what she wanted. Why risk it all to return here now?”
Haslemere shook his head. “To punish you? I don’t pretend to understand her reasons. I doubt even she understands them. She’s not rational, and that makesher dangerous.”
Gideon thought of Isabella, and a shudder rolled over him. If all she wanted was to punishhim, he’d consider himself lucky. A broken betrothal and another scandal were nothing,nothingcompared to what might have happened. “She’s accomplished her goal, then. I’m no longer betrothed.”
“Are yousorry for it?”
Gideon glanced at Haslemere. “You’re asking if I’m devastated tolose my bride?”
“Yes.” Haslemere’s voice was guarded. “Are you?”
Was he? Gideon drew in a sharp breath, let the cold air burn his lungs. The horror on Miss Honeywell’s face, the ugliness in her voice…
You’re a wicked, wicked man.
She truly believed he was a murderer. Perhaps she’d thoughtso all along.
He’d asked her to marry him. In another four days he would have made her his wife, yet he couldn’t muster a trace of regret on her account. By the time a few weeks passed, he wondered if he’d even recall the color of her eyes, the contours of her face. His emotions were a tangled mess, but at least he could reassure Haslemere on this account. “No, I’m not sorry. It’sfor the best.”
Given time, he’d likely be grateful for it.
The lines of tension around Haslemere’s mouth eased, and he let out a short laugh. “You’re free of her mother, at any rate. Near escape, really.”
Yes, he was free of his bride, and free of Mrs. Honeywell, but he wasn’tfree, because another face had taken the place of Miss Honeywell’s, another pair of eyes, dark and bottomless,another voice…
Low andsweet, singing.
But he wouldn’t think of that now. They were closing in on the tree line. If anyone was wandering in the woods with a lantern, they’d be able to see the light by now. Gideon squinted into the gloom, but not a glimmer brightened the darkness.
He and Haslemere tramped through the woods for some time, bare tree branches tearing at their coats, frigid fingers of wind creeping under their collars, but there were no poachers or pranksters hidden among the trees, no White Lady with a face as pale as death, her white gown trailing along the forest floor.
There was no one.
By the time they turned back toward the castle, their feet and hands were half-frozen, and Gideon’s hopes had faded. “Tomorrow, we search again. We’ve got to find her, Haslemere, before—”
“We’ll find her. I promise you that, Darlington.”
They didn’t speak again as they made their way backto the castle.
In another few hours, the sun would rise. There didn’t seem to be much point in retiring now. Gideon knew he wouldn’t sleep, but he wasn’t sure what else to do, so when he reached his bedchamber, he stripped off his coat, lay down on his bed, and closed his eyes.
Chapter Sixteen
Despite Mrs. Honeywell’s frantic promises the night before, Miss Honeywell hadnotcome to her senses by the following morning. The two of them descended the stairs dressed in their traveling cloaks before breakfast, Mrs. Honeywell red-faced and breathless, and her daughter paleand determined.
Gideon had been informed of their imminent departure and had dragged a reluctant Haslemere with him into the entrance hall to bidthem goodbye.
“My lord.” Miss Honeywell swept down the stairs with all the dignity a lady who’d spent the previous night shrieking like a banshee could possibly muster. “I regret our betrothal has come to such a sad pass.”
Gideon, who’d spend a good part of the night wondering why he didn’t feel even a twinge of regret at the loss of his betrothed, offered her a polite bow. “I’m truly sorry for—”
“Lord Darlington.” Mrs. Honeywell grasped Gideon’s arm before he could say another word. “Dotalk some sense into the girl, won’t you?”
